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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24856978">Possessive</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl'>ktbl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Paper Rings [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mortal Kombat (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Battle Couple, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings, Fighting, Friendship, Impulse Control, Kissing, Kitchen Incidents, Military, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, Whipped Cream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:54:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,565</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24856978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktbl/pseuds/ktbl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re in the cage with Johnny.”</p><p>“You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?” Sonya’s voice is businesslike but carries a hint of amusement. He’d give anything to see her face right now, those high cheekbones and beautiful eyes and that mouth he can only. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “We’ve got something. Lead on Quan Chi.” </p><p>He almost fumbles the phone in surprise and drops the beer bottle, managing to catch it by the neck just before it spills all over his nice couch and carpet. “Where? When? I want in.”</p><p>--</p><p>Sonya Blade is a lot of things - hardheaded is one of them. Possessive is another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sonya Blade &amp; Jackson "Jax" Briggs, Sonya Blade &amp; Johnny Cage, Sonya Blade/Johnny Cage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Paper Rings [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Helps to have read "Poor Impulse Control" before this, but it's not required.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It’s been the longest two weeks of his life since Sonya Blade was in his bed, and every time he’s thought of putting someone else in it, he changes his mind. Johnny Cage’s not-so-little black book is gathering dust, while there’s a bottle in his nightstand emptying at a rapid pace instead. He’s been able to lose himself in filming; can disappear in his role, have absolutely nothing to do with Shinnok and Quan Chi and the Mortal Kombat tournaments and everything gone awry. The Netherrealm War is over, thank God, and everything can go back to normal. Like what life was before Shao Kahn’s bullshit and Shinnok. Back when his biggest worry was his next film, his next paycheck, his next jolt of pleasure.</p><p class="p1">He’s been training almost every day, the mixture of endorphins and exhaustion that ensure a few beers and a quick and dirty dinner will get him through the night so he can do it all over again the next day. Just a couple of days more and then he’s got a break. Then…maybe he’ll try to call her again, see how life is as a Lieutenant Colonel. If maybe she’d be up for drinks some night.</p><p class="p1">What the hell. He’s Johnny fucking Cage. He should not be so hung up on this, on her. Get out, have a good night. Maybe that’s it - but getting up is too much effort right now, especially with an early call tomorrow. Gotta make bank somehow. Exasperated, he kicks his feet up on the couch, and cracks open another beer, tossing the cap to sit with the two empties he’s already downed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to grab that black book, give a call. No one’s ever turned him down, except for her. There’s gotta be someone in there that can get Sonya off his mind, since he’s clearly off hers. He takes a long drink from the amber bottle, starts running through the list in his head.</p><p class="p1">He’s narrowed down the possibilities to four, leaning heavily towards the dusky-skinned model he met last week with killer eyes and amazing legs. He’s working up the willpower to get himself off the couch when his phone rings and startles him out of his frustrated contemplation. It’s the ringtone he’s got set for <em>her</em>, and he suddenly he can’t move fast enough. He can’t find the damn phone, and starts shoving aside cushions before finally finding it under yesterday’s pizza box.</p><p class="p1">“You’re in the cage with Johnny.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?” Sonya’s voice is businesslike but carries a hint of amusement. He’d give anything to see her face right now, those high cheekbones and beautiful eyes and that mouth he can only. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “We’ve got something. Lead on Quan Chi.”</p><p class="p1">“Shit.” He almost fumbles the phone in surprise and drops the beer bottle, managing to catch it by the neck just before it spills all over his nice couch and carpet. “Where? When? I want in.”</p><p class="p1">“I was-“ There’s an infinitesimal catch of her breath, but enough that he can hear it. “I was hoping you’d say that. It’s time sensitive. I have a briefing tomorrow. We’ll determine the plan, and expect to be boots on the ground about forty-eight hours after that.” He can hear her moving around in her apartment. “Already pulling some people in for this so it won’t be too far off. You don’t have to show up for the briefing but I’d suggest being ready to be up here tomorrow afternoon if you can. Or oh dark thirty the morning after.”</p><p class="p1">“I can come up for the briefing. Supposed to have something on but I’ll get it changed.” He pushes himself up off the couch onto his feet. “What time do I need to be there?”</p><p class="p1">“Not gonna fuck up your schedule, Johnny-“</p><p class="p1">“Sonya, it’s Quan Chi. Damn the movie if it means taking him out, and getting everyone back. Jax, and Liu Kang, and Kung Lao, and everyone.” His voice is vehement, and he can tell by the silence on the other end that she’s surprised. He can hear her breathing so he knows she hasn’t hung up, but she’s dead silent. “You there?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. Just - not used to this version of you. Wondering if I go check under your bed I’ll find a pod person. I’ll get clearances arranged, get someone to escort you to me when you can get up. Bring-“ she pauses, continues on a little more rushed, with a slightly strained voice, “bring an overnight bag, we’ll put you up somewhere.”</p><p class="p1">“Holy shit, you just made another movie reference. Pod people. I’m so proud of you, Sonya. You’re learning.”</p><p class="p1">“Fuck off, Johnny.”</p><p class="p1">“There’s my girl.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not your girl,” she says, but her voice lacks the cold neutrality of loathing or the fiery heat of anger. She just sounds tired. “Be a good boy and you can bunk here.”</p><p class="p1">“And if I’m a bad boy?” His voice is hopeful.</p><p class="p1">“In a cell because I’ll have the MPs drag your ass out.”</p><p class="p1">“Best behavior, duly noted.”</p><p class="p1">“That’ll be the day,” she scoffs. “Things’ll be ready for you tomorrow morning, and someone will find me when you get on base and get you to the briefing.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">He’s shown into the briefing room by an aide the following afternoon and finds an array of officers in service uniform. He’s not sure what the occasion that there’s so much Army blue, and no sign of Sonya. There are a pair of women, a redhead and a brunette, but their backs are to him so he idly looks at the backs of their legs instead, shapely calves and polished black heels. There’s something to be said for impeccably tailored uniforms, when the whole point is looking good. He drops his duffel in the corner and walks to the meeting table, reaching for a folder. The redhead turns around, walking towards the door, and his hands stop abruptly. He eyes her from behind his sunglasses, looking her over - not bad, gorgeous hands with perfect nails. She seems to be looking him over too, and he flashes a grin.</p><p class="p1">“She’s working, Cage,” comes Sonya’s voice from one side. “Save the salivating for later.” He turns quickly and glances downward to meet her eyes, except he sees her lips instead, has to adjust to meet her eyes. Sonya with added height? Grateful he still has his shades on, he looks her over - she’s in uniform too, all the pins and insignia that mean nothing to him, but show she clearly has busted her ass. His eyes move downward along the lines of the tailored jacket and to then he rapidly thinks of everything horrible in the world because she’s in a skirt. He’s never seen her legs like this, uncovered and out for everyone, except when they were in his bed. There’s a sudden flare of anger, of jealousy, that she wears a skirt for all these other people. That she does this on an everyday basis, and he’s never seen it before. Frustration bubbles up and he tries to keep it behind the movie star smile.</p><p class="p1">“Lieutenant Colonel Blade.” Johnny clears his throat. “Didn’t recognize you out of your boots.” He’s never seen her in her service uniform and it looks like it was made for her - or she was made for it. He wants to stare, and keep staring. So he does.</p><p class="p1">“Mister Cage.” She narrows her eyes, tilts her head, and if looks could kill he’d be dead on the floor. He feels his smile falter a bit, so he ratchets it back up. He’s Johnny Cage. She did call him, after all, and arranged his clearances - so this must be professional Sonya. It’s terrifying. She could give Sindel a run for her money, all imperious and capable and utterly badass. He’ll have to have her meet his agent the next time he pisses Johnny off.</p><p class="p1">“Made it up, like I said.”</p><p class="p1">“Which I appreciate. Have you been introduced around?” He shakes his head, and she nods, shoulders sliding back, standing a little straighter. “Alright. We’ll start with the biggest one, since my direct CO isn’t here.” She motions with her chin to the front of the room, where an older man stands with a jacket even more decorated than Sonya’s. “Time to meet the General. On your best behavior, Cage. I’ve got the MPs on speed dial.”</p><p class="p1">“You’ve got such a way with words,” he says to her, and thinks he sees the faint flicker of a smile across her face as she walks up to the one-star general, Johnny trailing in her wake.</p><p class="p1">“General, have you met Mr. Cage before?” Sonya’s voice is horrifyingly polite, and Johnny wonders for a moment if it’s Shang Tsung standing there, because he’s never heard Sonya sound that way for anyone. Even Raiden and Fujin get the sharp side of her tongue. It’s more disturbing than hearing the farmgirl drawl.</p><p class="p1">“No, I haven’t. Heard a lot of good things about you, from her.” The general nods at Sonya. Johnny sees a faint hint of red creep into her cheeks.</p><p class="p1">“An honor to meet you, sir.” Johnny pulls up his best professional smile, his business side, extending a hand. It’s clasped tightly, and he makes an effort to match the grip strength. The general arches a greying eyebrow, as if impressed.</p><p class="p1">“Never thought I’d have a Hollywood <em>actor</em>,” and he says the word as disdainfully as Sonya ever has, enough that Johnny wonders if it’s something they learn in basic, “in my briefing room. About the only reason you’re here is because she’s personally vouched for you.” The man’s eyes flick to several of the colored ribbon bars on Sonya’s uniform, which Johnny realizes the General does not himself possess. Interesting.</p><p class="p1">A frown tilts Sonya’s lips down. “Sir. If we’re taking Quan Chi down, there are only two other people as invested as I am. Cage is one of them, and he’s been my partner long enough that I can rely on him to do what has to be done.” She exhales, looks around the room. “Sir, it looks like we’re ready for the briefing.”</p><p class="p1">Johnny’s eyes widen behind his sunglasses. Partner. She called him her partner. And she didn’t stutter when she said it. The thought buoys him as he follows her to the table. He sits down at her right, and no one questions it. He flips open the manila folder in front of him with his right hand, dropping his left down onto his lap.</p><p class="p1">“Uniform looks good on you,” he murmurs into her ear, and she makes a soft noise of disbelief. “You been holding up okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah.” She reaches for a cup of coffee in front of her, drinks it down lukewarm and black. “Had a couple promotions to do today before I risk not being able to do them at all. Had to dress up. Can’t wait to get home and get out of this.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll help.” He pitches his voice low, and she drops a hand under the table and he feels five bright pinpricks of pain as her nails dig into his thigh.</p><p class="p1">“You’re not going to get anything except an escort off this base if you get me disciplined,” she hisses, digging her nails in further before letting go. “I’ve got leverage, but only so much.”</p><p class="p1">He’s fairly certain there’s a grin fighting to appear on her face, despite her words. The briefing starts and he pays close attention, but one of his hands wanders below the table, finding purchase on her uniform skirt. He trails his fingers down the skirt to the hem and rests them there, just curling under it, brushing the backs of his fingertips across her upper thigh. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge it in any way. He can’t decide if he wants to work his fingers higher up her thigh - she looks good, so damn good in the dress uniform.</p><p class="p1">The tactical assessment and briefing is more drawn-out than he’s familiar with, but he has never sat in on an operation from quite this early stage. Usually he shows up last minute, often with Kenshi, gets handed a role and catches everything else in the final briefing. He’s not surprised as the discussion evolves into a deeper strategic planning. When they start using technical jargon, he abandons even trying to follow along. Some of Sonya’s colleagues and superiors slide snide commentary in about Johnny - and every time, she squares her shoulders and knocks down every point of opposition, going hard and fast and brutal.</p><p class="p1">“I think it’s being exaggerated, frankly,” Sonya says with a tight voice, clearly at her breaking point. He wants to tell her to relax, that he’s used to this, but she’s taking it personally today. “You’re making more of a deal out of this the it needs to be. We’ll portal in, and with a squad or two should be able to get the drop on Quan Chi and any of the revenants that are there. But if our information is accurate, he’s not there all the time. That would leave us some leeway to drop an ambush if the situation allows it.”</p><p class="p1">“And what if all the revenants are there? Do you really believe that yourself, two squads, and a movie star can handle them?”</p><p class="p1">“If we run into all of them plus Quan Chi himself, half of this base couldn’t manage it. But Cage managed to take out a god, sir. A couple of squads and Cage, and I am confident we can address the threat. The likelihood of Quan Chi having all of them at once in the same space?” Sonya shakes her head. “Poor tactical decision, and I hate the fucker but he has decent strategy. He wouldn’t put them all in one place. But the only additional person I would bring is infiltrating the Red Dragon right now. Cage comes, and we do it my way.”</p><p class="p1">“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Blade?”</p><p class="p1">Sonya doesn’t even look up. “I’m right. That’s all that matters.”</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“That,” Johnny says as they fastwalk towards her office, “was hot.”</p><p class="p1">“Excuse me?” She hisses the words through her teeth as she pivots on her heels and stares at him, incredulous.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve never watched you do tactics before like that, always come in for the final mission briefings. And also, you stood up for me in front of your bosses.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, and I’m probably gonna get called out over it, too,” she says irritably, resuming her ground-eating pace. “But it’s true. You took out a god, and we’ve fought together long enough that we don’t have to think about it. If I’m going after Quan Chi, you’re top of my list. I can rely on you.” She catches herself, frowning slightly.</p><p class="p1">“I’m pretty good on top in general. Though you in that uniform, you could be on top or anywhere else… I’d let you do just about anything to me.”</p><p class="p1">She stops in front of her office door and turns again with the same scathing look from the briefing room. “You would no matter what I wore, or didn’t.” She opens the door and heads straight for her desk, brushing away paperwork and staring at the mug of cold coffee.</p><p class="p1">“I’m a little surprised to see you in a skirt, though. Didn’t think they were your style."</p><p class="p1">“They aren’t, but it pays to remind people sometimes that Lieutenant Colonel Blade is a woman.” Her lips pull up in a half-annoyed, half-amused, smile. “Also, I lost a bet, so I couldn’t wear my slacks.”</p><p class="p1">“Oho, you lost a bet? Spill.” He pockets his sunglasses now, pulling up a chair and sitting on it backwards, arms crossed over the backrest. “I want to hear what you got wrong.”</p><p class="p1">“You sound like a teenage girl, Johnny.” She sits down and shakes the mouse, keying something into her computer. “I lost a bet, had to wear the skirt. Cannot wait to get home and get out of it.” She looks at him, meeting his eyes. “And into something else. I am not wandering around half-dressed.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m here to help, Sonya. If that means getting you out of that uniform, trust me, I’m all yours.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re incorrigible.” She picks up the coffee and downs it, making a face. “Look, I got paperwork to do. I’m not off duty for another couple of hours. You can go down to the training rooms and someone can hand your ass to you, or out to one of the ranges if you want, I’ll get you an escort.”</p><p class="p1">“I can wait.” He grins at her and rests his chin on his crossed arms. “I like the view.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ve never been in here, y’know.” Johnny looks around as she opens the door to her apartment. It’s bare-bones, like she isn’t here much; white walls, bland beige carpeting, standard-issue furniture for the most part.</p><p class="p1">“Not much to say. It’s what my base housing allowance covers.” She gets out of his way, kicks off her heels and seems to move on autopilot. She’s abruptly several inches shorter and he wishes he’d stolen a kiss before she shrank. “Living room’s there, bathroom’s down the hall on the left, my room’s on the right.”</p><p class="p1">“Where am I tonight?”</p><p class="p1">“Where d’ you want to be?” She steps into the small kitchen area, turns the oven on, and pulls something out of the fridge. His pants feel a little tighter as she bends over, and he’s pretty sure she does it slower and more intentionally than she would if she was home alone.</p><p class="p1">“Getting my hopes up, Sonya. That’s not fair.”</p><p class="p1">“Offer’s open. I can pull out the couch, I can toss you in an empty bunk somewhere, or - well. Like I said, my room’s on the right.”</p><p class="p1">“Two weeks and nothing, and now…“ He trails off, staring at her with undisguised shock.</p><p class="p1">“Didn’t know you were my CO and I had to report in.” She looks over her shoulder at him, cool and collected, and his heart and groin both twitch again at the view of her in her uniform, especially as she bends over and the fabric goes taut around her ass and thighs. She fishes around in a drawer for something and drops a bottle opener on the counter. “I’m going to get out of this, it’s like being trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Beer’s in the fridge, help yourself.”</p><p class="p1">He takes the time alone as tacit approval to snoop, so he does so comprehensively. The main living area has a couch, coffee table, and TV mounted on the wall. There’s a desk and chair, what looks like a decent computer setup, and a small safe he guesses is for firearms. The walls are only slightly decorated, a few photos - family photo of what must be Sonya at about six, another with her parents and a boy that looks almost identical to her. There’s a high school graduation photo of Sonya and that same almost-identical young man, and then a picture of Sonya and her mother when she graduated the military academy. Sonya and Jax sometime early in their partnership, and-</p><p class="p1">“The hell is this?” He peers closer at a picture, what looks like Sonya in the back room of an aquarium, with a squid or an octopus or something in her hands.</p><p class="p1">“Birthday present from Jax, just before all this bullshit went down.” Her voice comes from the hallway and he turns around to see her, changed into shorts and a tank top, hair back in a ponytail.His eyes are drawn to the thin line of pale skin between the waistband of her shorts and the hem of her shirt. He is certain his swallow is audible, and it’s confirmed when she looks over with a hint of a smile.</p><p class="p1">“He bought you a squid?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” she says, snorting. “That’d be like having a kid. Backroom tour thing at the Aquarium of the Pacific to see the octopus.”</p><p class="p1">“You… have a thing for octopuses?”</p><p class="p1">“Almost went into marine biology. Would have been a hell of a different life if I had.” She turns away from the pictures and into the kitchen, pulling a knife from a drawer.</p><p class="p1">Yet another thing he didn’t know about her. His life’s an open book, and she’s a goddamned puzzle box. He decides to throw caution to the wind - they might die tomorrow, anyway - and slides a hand around her waist while she’s standing there. His fingers spread wide across the tank top over her stomach.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got a knife, Johnny.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, and I’ve got great reflexes, and a really pretty face you don’t want to wreck.”</p><p class="p1">“Who says I’d cut your face?”</p><p class="p1">He’s as surprised as she is that she leans back into him, and that she doesn’t elbow him or make a move, even feigned, with the knife. He brushes hair away from her neck, kisses the side of it, tugs her slightly into him as he does.</p><p class="p1">“I’m too handsome. It’d be a crime against humanity if you knifed me anywhere,” he informs her archly.</p><p class="p1">“My bed can fit me and one more. Your ego makes three and there’s not room enough for it.”</p><p class="p1">“Not in the mood for a threesome?”</p><p class="p1">That gets an actual elbow to the gut, sharp and quick, and he chuckles.</p><p class="p1">“One of you is more than enough.” She’s not moving, not pushing him away, but turns back to the steaks in front of her, eyeing them critically. She takes a moment to season them, and then nudges him backward with her ass. “How do you take your steak?”</p><p class="p1">“Uh, whatever it should be?”</p><p class="p1">“Ignorant,” she grumbles, pulling out a heavy cast iron pan from a cupboard, putting it on the stove and turning the heat up as high as it will go. “You’re eating it rare or medium-rare tonight.”</p><p class="p1">“Steak?”</p><p class="p1">“We might die tomorrow,” she says flippantly. “Steak, ice cream, the good stuff.”</p><p class="p1">“What the hell? Don’t talk like that. We’ll be fine. I - we - took down a god. What’s a naked mole rat like Quan Chi gonna do to us?”</p><p class="p1">“And if he’s got Kabal, and Jade, and Kitana and Liu and-“ He sees her shoulders tighten, pull in a bit, “Jax, and Stryker, and-“</p><p class="p1">“Okay, okay.” Johnny holds up his hands in surrender and backs away. “You’ve got me, and we’ve given Raiden the overview and he’ll check in, and then there’s your squads and all yourtoys.” He moves to one side and watches her as she waits for the pan to scream with heat. She’s in constant motion, but he’s enjoying the relaxation of the moment, the familiarity of her movements that have nothing to do with fighting, the seriousness with which she takes making a meal. She reaches up absentmindedly and turns on the exhaust fan to the highest setting, and then looks across at him, expression serious.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t help it. Plan for the worst.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry they won’t let you bring the 420C or whatever.”</p><p class="p1">“240B,” she corrects absentmindedly. “But they need two people each, and we’re keeping this small for speed.”</p><p class="p1">“We’ll be fine. You’re a tactical genius, Sonya. I mean, hell, if we don’t manage to take him down it won’t be because of anything you’ve done, or didn’t do. You have everything in place. It’ll work out.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re too optimistic,” she says, dropping one steak into the pan, then the other. The sound of sizzling and the sudden smell of searing meat fills the kitchen.</p><p class="p1">“I’m right. You’re brilliant, you’re practiced, you’ve gone through everything with a bunch of people almost as smart as you, or who arguably have more experience.” He snorts. “Unless Kenshi, Fujin, and Raiden show up, there’s no one else who’s got more experience with this than us, so.”</p><p class="p1">She glances over her shoulder at him, raising both eyebrows. He meets her gaze, and he’s not sure how long they stare at each other. To his surprise, she’s the one who looks away first. He lets out a short laugh in surprise, and she flips the steaks, and then flips him the bird over her shoulder. That meets with another laugh.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t know when to stop, do you, Johnny?” She puts the tongs on the side of the stove, and moves the pan into the oven. She takes longer than she needs to, he’s sure of it, to set a timer, straightening up slowly. He takes the time to stare at her ass, and he can’t decide if she’s not wearing anything under it, or wearing a thong, but he sets a personal goal of finding out sometime before they finish the movie. She crosses her arms and she leans against the counter. A smile kicks up one side of her lips, fighting for its place.</p><p class="p1">“Nah, see, my problem is more knowing the right time to start,” he says, moving over and closing the space between them. “I should have started this before you started cooking, for example.” He leans over, plants his hands on her hips, and kisses her.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">She’s wanted to do this for hours, but there’s no way in hell she’ll indulge anything that selfish on post - and she hasn’t been sure how many of his earlier comments were jokes. Now it’s abundantly clear that her ditching him, her two weeks of cold shoulder out of selfish terror and paranoia and shame, have done little to dampen the heat between them.</p><p class="p1">She feels the counter pressing into her back, and she slides a hand around the back of his neck, holding him against her. There’s only a moment of tentativeness, as they edge to one side so they don’t risk knocking into to the stove. Then the hesitation is gone, mouths pressed against each other, open and messy. He pulls back, sucking in a breath, and shakes his head once before turning down to her. His hands slide upwards, pulling the shirt up over her breasts, and she can feel heat beginning to rise between her thighs. He steps between her legs, hands tracing designs across her skin, sending jolts of pleasure through her at every contact.</p><p class="p1">If they’re going to die tomorrow, she’s not going to die with regrets, and she’d prefer to have the memory of him on her lips and across her body as she goes. He seems to be of the same opinion, mouth slanted against hers, greedy and searching, hands stroking her breasts and making hot trails across her skin. She wants him in the worst way, and she reaches her hands up under his shirt, across the broad muscle of his back. She rakes her nails across him and feels him bow beneath her touch, feels him suck in another heavy breath. She drops a hand between his legs and can feel a growing bulge, and he’s trying to work his finger up one barely-there leg of her shorts. Frustrated and failing, he settles for rubbing the seam right between her legs and making her whine - when the fuck did she start to <em>whine?</em> </p><p class="p1">Then there’s the smell of smoke, foul and heavy, in their noses.</p><p class="p1">“Shit,” she swears, pushing him back, no matter how much she desperately doesn’t want to. She pulls her shirt down back over her chest, and yanks on a pair of thick oven mitts. She opens the oven and smoke escapes. She swears vehemently and copiously, extracting the charred ruins of two good steaks out of the oven, sets the sizzling and smoking pan on the oven. The smoke is sucked up by the exhaust fan, and she slumps back against the counter.</p><p class="p1">“Shit.” She bangs a fist angrily on the counter, several times in quick succession. “Well, I fucked that up.” She can feel the tension leaping back into her, and tilts her head back, closing her eyes. So much for that plan.</p><p class="p1">“Nice to know I can distract you.” He winks, reaching out and hooking a belt loop on her shorts. “Got anything else? Or, I mean, I could eat out, but that wouldn’t do much for y-“ He laughs and ducks her frustrated swing, catching her fist and brushing his lips against the pulse at her wrist. She has to remind herself to breathe. He’s relaxed - she can afford to be, too. They’re not going to move the mission time any earlier, and it’s just food.</p><p class="p1">“Nothing good for pre-mission last hurrahs,” she says, exhaling irritably through her nose. “There’s pizza, Chinese, Indian-“</p><p class="p1">“Order pizza in, fine by me. I’m not here for a fancy dinner.” He drops her hand, and rests his hand gently on her shoulder. “Look, I brought a movie. Get whatever’s fast and easy, we can watch and eat. Don’t stress about it, babe.”</p><p class="p1">“You say that,” she says dryly, looking at him. “But I would have thought by now you’d have figured out that’s not an option.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, we’ll fix that eventually. We’ve got time. Look, gimme the menu and tell me how I give directions to your place, and I’ll call it in.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got it.” She ducks out from under his hand, grabs a menu off the refrigerator, and hands it to him. “Let me know what you want, I’ll call over, shouldn’t take too much time.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got ideas for what we can do while we wait.” He looks at her, ignoring the menu in his hands for a time. “But maybe we should get this called in first.”</p><p class="p1">“For once, you have a good plan.”</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">It is faster than even she expects before a pair of pizza boxes are in Sonya’s hands; the kitchen still reeks of smoke and the disappointment of ruined dinner, even though she’s taken her shame and thrown it in the garbage bins outside. The speed of the replacement meal probably has something to do with the fact that Johnny wouldn’t shut up in the background while she called, and it’s got to be all over the base by now that Johnny Cage is at Blade’s. She’s frankly surprised she hasn’t had a string of knocks on her door. Now she is trying (and failing) to keep Johnny from paying, but he’s spending too much time chatting with the delivery guy about movies and fight sequences for her taste.</p><p class="p1">“If you don’t come eat these, I’m going to and leave you to fend for yourself, Cage,” she calls. He makes a noise of wounded disbelief, and the door is shut moments later.</p><p class="p1">“That was uncalled for.”</p><p class="p1">“He’s probably got other deliveries to make.”</p><p class="p1">“But only one chance to speak with Johnny Cage.”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe your ego can ride shotgun with him,” she says, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, mister movie star. You can mourn the loss of your greatest fan while we eat and watch whatever you’ve hauled along.”</p><p class="p1">“Next dinner’s my treat.” He takes the pizza boxes from her and sets them on the coffee table. “I’ll get a grill, a couple steaks, you can do it the right way, and I swear I’ll keep my hands off you.”</p><p class="p1">She tilts her head and gives him a disbelieving look. That he’d talk about buying a grill so flippantly… She will never, ever understand this man.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, I’ll… try really hard to keep my hands off you?”</p><p class="p1">“More likely.”</p><p class="p1">She tries very hard to not think about the fact that they’ve tacitly agreed a next time is in the cards. They’re friends. They’re friends and partners, they’re colleagues. Catching up for beer and burgers, or steak, isn’t out of the question. She can handle a one-night stand. She can handle pre-op nerves and planning on a good fuck to get it out of her system so she can focus on the task at hand. But preemptively planning a third something, before the second one’s even done? That makes her stomach flip. It keeps her busy thinking while they eat, and she cleans up while he queues up the movie.</p><p class="p1">“So, I figured we’d work our way through some of the best, like I said.” He slings an arm around her shoulder, and she relaxes into it. “I’m not watching military movies with you because you’ll complain the entire time.”</p><p class="p1">“You got that right,” she grumbles.</p><p class="p1">“And no romances. Which kind of leaves us with action, horror, and serious stuff.” He makes a moue of dismay. “So since we’re going into the Netherrealm and facing down a sorcerer and a bunch of undead... Decided on The Poseidon Adventure. 1972, with Gene Hackman, Ernest Borgnine, Leslie Nielsen, Red Buttons-“</p><p class="p1">“Wait, seriously? Some guy named Red Buttons? Did his parents hate him?” She pulls back in appalled disbelief, and he laughs.</p><p class="p1">“No, no. Stage name.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait, he picked that?” She simply stares in pure confusion. “I’m never going to understand you people.”</p><p class="p1">“Just relax and enjoy the show, babe.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here, have some smut. Also some feelings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">About halfway through the movie, or so Sonya guesses based on how the body count is ratcheting up (it’s going too slow to be a modern movie - it’s definitely a product of the seventies), she disappears into the kitchen. She returns to the couch with a pair of bowls, spoons, and a spray canister of something, setting it all on the coffee table.</p><p class="p1">“What-ooh, you have my favorite!” Johnny sounds like a teenage girl, and she wonders not for the first time why she keeps letting him get in her pants, and why the hell she likes it so much.</p><p class="p1">“Chocolate?” Because she will die on the hill that chocolate is the best ice cream flavor. She has dug in on that hill and she is ready to fight there forever.</p><p class="p1">“Chocolate’s okay,” he says, and she readies herself for the first argument, “but you got spray whipped cream.” Johnny reaches for the container and she laughs, snatching it out of his reach.</p><p class="p1">“That’s not dessert, ass. You cannot have it straight.”</p><p class="p1">“Cannot,” he asks, eyes lighting up, “or you won’t let me?”</p><p class="p1">“Both.” He lunges forward and wraps his arms around her, fighting for access to the spray can, and she laughs again, holding it close and trying to keep a tight grip on it. He works hard to try to pry the canister from her hands, fingers wiggling into her armpits. She squirms, breathlessly clutching it to her chest.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t laugh enough,” he says, breathing heavily. He spreads his hands out, as if giving up. “You don’t laugh enough, you don’t relax enough, you don’t-“</p><p class="p1">“Don’t fucking say it, Cage, or I will shove that canister down your throat.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m an idiot sometimes, but not all the time.” She watches him watch her as she catches her breath, sagging back against the couch. She still holds the canister close, not quite trusting him. She’s not sure which one of them is predator and which one is prey right now; it’s unclear, and she’s not sure if she minds it. His eyes are bright, his mouth parted slightly, and he licks his lips before continuing to speak. “Well, okay, I’m an idiot most of the time, but not all the time.”</p><p class="p1">“Mmphm.” She leans forward, gratuitously spraying the whipped topping all over both bowls of ice cream. She turns back to him, makes full eye contact, and very deliberately sprays a bit on one finger, and licks it off as slowly and teasingly as she can manage. It’s definitely not up to high standards - she hasn’t done shit like this in years, and she’s pretty sure she looks more like a teenager trying to do something sexy, than an adult woman actually pulling it off.</p><p class="p1">And yet his eyes are on her, his world narrowed to her finger and her tongue. Someone could drop a grenade behind him and he wouldn’t notice. Hell, she might even be able to grab his dick and he might not notice, the way he’s so laser-focused.</p><p class="p1">“You definitely do not do that enough.” He swallows once, heavily, and reaches for the spray can. “Let me help. More practice is always good, right?” He covers one of his fingers in the sticky white stuff, and tilts his hand towards her. There’s another moment, the tension so taut something has to give. She opens her mouth and takes a very slow, single lick along the bottom of his finger. He stops breathing for a moment, eyes on her, and she closes her mouth around his finger, tongue and lips working slowly, what she’s certain is amateurishly.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck.” Johnny’s word drops in the suddenly silent room along with a heavy, rough breath in. Amateur or not, apparently it doesn’t matter, and she’s once again baffled by it. His eyes close and he shifts in the seat as she sucks, her cheeks hollowing while her tongue twists around his finger. “You’ve been holding out on me.”</p><p class="p1">She raises an eyebrow and pulls her mouth away with an audible pop! to grab her bowl of ice cream, hoping it hasn’t gone too warm. “Not so much holding out, as-“</p><p class="p1">He holds up a hand, grabs his own bowl, and looks at the stiff peaks of whipped cream, and down to his finger, and across to her mouth. “Don’t ruin it, let me have my fantasies.”</p><p class="p1">“Your entire life is built around the pursuit of wish fulfillment.” She takes a spoonful of chocolate ice cream and eyes him, expecting a witty retort. He pauses and shrugs, conceding the point.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it. I’ve got this one of you, and a bathing suit… and then there’s you in your uniform, bent over a desk… and one of you kicking my ass and then-“</p><p class="p1">“Last one sounds most likely,” she mutters, pressing play on the remote again. He grins, kisses the side of her head, and she decides that she can handle this. For a little bit, at least. They tuck into the ice cream, but it doesn’t take long for Johnny to start spraying the whipped cream on Sonya and licking it off. He starts at her wrist and works his way up as she doesn’t bat him away, trying valiantly to ignore him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">His half-finished bowl of ice cream goes soupy in favor of chasing a trail of melting white off her shoulder and down her arm, tongue delving into the crease of the inside of her elbow. It tickles, and she laughs, and it’s one of the best sounds he’s ever heard, even if there might be a bit of manic to it. He opens his mouth to say something and shuts it quickly, because he doesn’t want to ruin this. The movie is forgotten as he nips his way up the side of her neck and then down her collarbone and between her breasts, not even bothering with the whipped cream as an excuse anymore. He just wants to memorize every inch of her, especially since now she is willing to let him.</p><p class="p1">He pulls down her tank top and reveals her breasts again and nuzzles his face between them. She drops a hand on his head and he has a heart wrenching moment of thinking she’s going to force it back, except she just runs her nails along his scalp instead. Breathing in the sweet scent of her, sweat and citrus and chocolate and sugar, he thinks of the collected soldier in the briefing room hours ago, all aloof confidence, nothing at all like the woman next to him. She seems willing to at least pretend to still watch the movie as he laves her breasts with his tongue and cups them with his hands; he looks up to find her eyes affixed to him, mouth half-open in pleasure, and the movie nearly done.</p><p class="p1">She stands up and he whimpers, trying to grab at her and pull her back, before she dodges his grasping hands.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not doing this on a couch,” she informs him, crooking a finger. “I’ve got a bed for a reason.”</p><p class="p1">He is up and off the couch and following behind her, not many steps down the hall, to her bedroom. Once upon a time he would have cared what it looked like, judged her based on it, but his eyes barely catch sight of a dresser, a full-length mirror, a window and curtains and the bed, in favor of the woman standing at the foot of it. She beckons with one finger and he is drawn to her like a lodestone. Johnny’s arms curve around her waist and back and she draws his head down to hers for a kiss. It’s tongue and teeth and there is no fight; he surrenders willingly to her, lets her claim his mouth easily.</p><p class="p1">He does not expect her hands at his fly, at the buckle and zip of his pants, and the way she sinks to her knees.</p><p class="p1">“Sonya, you don’t have to-“</p><p class="p1">“Shut the hell up or I will stop.”</p><p class="p1">He snaps his mouth shut so fast he almost bites his tongue, and wonders what god he made happy to have Sonya doing this. He cannot believe her hands around his cock, and her mouth - well, what she’d done to his finger was a pale comparison. His fingers cup her head and work their way into the fine blonde hair as she settles in to give him a blow job. It’s artless and unrefined, but looking down and seeing those blue eyes glinting wickedly up at him, the reddened lips and hollowing cheeks, and the fact that she’s doing it because she wants to sends coherent thought fleeing from his mind. Every movement of her tongue on him is a jolt of pleasure, and he can feel his knees wanting to give way until he locks them firmly in place, or hopes he does. The last thing he wants to do is topple over on her while she’s doing that thing with her tongue and the head of his dick-</p><p class="p1">He can barely manage not to come, exerting reserves of willpower he didn’t know he had. His chest is heaving and his hands have to be almost painful on her head, but she really doesn’t seem to care, and only slackens when he’s started to thrust into her mouth, unconsciously chasing after her tongue. He whines, her name the only thing on his lips. She stops bobbing her head on his cock and slides him out of her mouth, rocking back on her heels and standing up.</p><p class="p1">“Not done with you yet.”</p><p class="p1">“Please don’t be,” he pants, wide eyed.</p><p class="p1">“Eventually, yes.” She turns around slowly and deliberately, and pulls off her shirt, slides off her shorts, and he exhales sharply at the realization she was not, in fact, wearing anything under them at all.</p><p class="p1">The gods have been good to him, and he will thank them the next time he sees them, but he’s pretty sure Raiden won’t want the details why.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Sonya is irredeemably, irrevocably vulnerable the minute she shimmies out of her clothes, but she wants this, wants him, and she’s willing to take that vulnerability. He looks at her, shakes his head with a smile pulling at his lips.</p><p class="p1">“I thought I was misremembering, but nope, you’re definitely as hot as I remember. No makeup, no airbrushing, nothing needed. You’re just-“ He shakes his head again, running his hands up and down her legs, and then rising up and sliding them around her ass and up her hips and sides, cupping her breasts in his hands. His hands fit around them perfectly.</p><p class="p1">“So I still meet approval?”</p><p class="p1">“Babe, you’ve got a pulse. You’ll meet approval as long as you have that.” His hands slide up her neck to cup her face, and she gives him a skeptical look.</p><p class="p1">“Thanks, I think.”</p><p class="p1">“Let me prove it.” He kisses her, and she’s almost immediately filled with desire and happiness in a strange combination. The idea that this man who could have pretty much anyone wants <em>her</em> remains mind-boggling, but he’s able to stir a feeling in her chest and between her legs that just doesn’t seem reasonable. But she likes it, she wants it, and she tries to pour that out in the kiss, as if the blow job hadn’t hopefully signaled that too. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she settles for spreading them out over his back, pressing him closer to her. The want, the need, and a thin trickle of nervousness, the gung-ho this-could-be-the-last-time reminder finds its way into her head. That it probably will be the last time - Quan Chi and any number of revenants is a hell of a threat.</p><p class="p1">He pulls back, runs a finger along her lips, and frowns slightly. “You look way too serious.”</p><p class="p1">“Just having a thought.”</p><p class="p1">“If you’re thinking, I’m doing this wrong.” He grins. “You look cold. Into bed. Let me take your mind off things.”</p><p class="p1">“Really?” She raises a brow in disbelief, but turns towards the bed, more than willing. It looks, for the first time, a little more perfunctory than she would have liked - not much more than a bunk in barracks. Queen sized, military corners on her sheets and blanket and a thin comforter on top, all in schemes of blue.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, hang on. Did you sit in some sugar or something?”</p><p class="p1">Sonya turns, brows wrinkling as she looks down. “No, why?”</p><p class="p1">“You’ve got a sweet ass.”</p><p class="p1">“Johnny,” she laughs, smacking him on the shoulder and her cheeks going faintly red in embarrassment, but he grins broadly at her, reaching as if to pick her up and toss her on the bed. “That was horrible.”</p><p class="p1">“Bad pick-up lines will continue until you stop looking so serious and get that ass in bed, woman. You also have great ankles.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh-huh.” She pulls down the blanket but doesn’t climb in yet; she is idly curious what he’ll come up with next. It’s curiosity - but also a train wreck, and she just can’t look away.</p><p class="p1">“I’d like them better on my shoulders, though.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re terrible,” she laughs, and he grins and leaps on the bed, dragging her in against him.</p><p class="p1">“No, I’m fantastic, and I am absolutely going to prove it to you. After that…” He swallows, glancing down. “Least I can do, right?”</p><p class="p1">“Remember what I said about your ego,” she chastises, and he taps a finger on his chin.</p><p class="p1">“Nope, sorry. All thoughts went out of my head the moment I got a glimpse of this,” and he kisses a collarbone, “and this,” and his mouth drags down and tongue flicks a nipple, “and this,” and he kisses a rib, “and this,” and his tongue dips into her navel, and he proceeds to dive between her thighs like she’s his favorite thing on the menu.</p><p class="p1">She can’t believe him - he’s a teenager, all hormones and impulse, but he spreads her open with one hand and and works his tongue and teeth and lips along her, covering every bit he can reach, inside and out, with his mouth. He teases at the tight bud of nerves at the top of her slit, fingers playing along the growing wetness between her thighs, and he does it with such devotion to it that she can’t help but relax and enjoy herself. There’s no ulterior motive here, nothing but him determinedly wanting to give her pleasure, and when she comes to terms with that, she tips her head back against her pillow, arches her hips up slightly, and feels him hum with satisfaction against her clit.</p><p class="p1">He reaches one hand up to roll a nipple between his fingers, and he comes up for breath, looking at her with a big happy grin and proof of her desire slick across his face. “I could do this all night.”</p><p class="p1">“Better not, because I’ve got plans of my own,” she says, and is not entirely sure where that came from or what she means by it except that it sounds right. The light in his eyes intensifies. The last time they did this, she spent half the time wondering what she was doing, and feeling guilty about it and the consequences that would come after. It’s been two weeks, and she’s determined not to feel guilty this time. She might die tomorrow - she’s expecting to, and her life for Jax’s would be a trade she’d make with no second thoughts. And if she’s going to go out, she’s going out with no regrets.</p><p class="p1">“I mean, I won’t say no, but getting you off is what I want to do right now.” He’s blunt and it drives all sense from her mind.</p><p class="p1">“I owe-“</p><p class="p1">“You owe me nothing, Sonya.” He’s oddly serious for a man with her arousal shining on his lips. “I’m doing this because I want to. I’m doing this because you’re beautiful and I love the fact that I can turn that bitch of a soldier into a hot, wet mess. I’m doing this because I want to bury my face between your legs until I make you scream my name.” </p><p class="p1">“Promises, promises.” She shifts her ass, thighs spreading a little wider, and he grins again. There’s something wicked in it this time.</p><p class="p1">“Just for that, I’m going to make you beg.”</p><p class="p1">And he almost gets her to, even if she’ll deny it until the day she dies, as he tongues and nibbles, licks and probes, works tongue and fingers along her and inside her until her body quakes with pleasure. Every time he brings her up to the edge of orgasm it’s like he can tell she’s there. Maybe it has to do with the knotting of his hair in her hand or the way she starts rubbing herself on his face, but he slows down and backs off until she’s writhing with pent-up orgasmic frustration. There’s a whining sound, and it takes her a few moments to realize that she is the source of it, and if she was feeling anything but this good, she might be embarassed. She wants this - she wants him, she wants to feel him buried inside her. So much for that self-possessed independent soldier. She <em>wants</em> to beg, and there’s a sense of shame that twists itself around in her and she shoves that away to psychoanalyze later.</p><p class="p1">She fists her hands in his hair and tugs him up to her face, kissing the taste of herself off him, licking it from the inside of his mouth. He groans into her, and she hooks a leg around him, slides an arm just so, and rolls them over so he’s on his back and she is kneeling atop him.</p><p class="p1">“Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” He looks up at her almost hopefully, and her answer is to sit back on her heels, his cock jutting up just in front of her, and she puts her hands on her hips.</p><p class="p1">“Really? <em>Really?”</em></p><p class="p1">“I tried so hard not to, but I had to!”</p><p class="p1">She dissolves into laughter, leaning over and kissing him, with far less lust and determination and far more happiness, stomach flip-flopping at his stupid grin and the equally stupid one she’s sure has to be plastered on her own face. She pulls back, his hands running along her sides and settling on her hips, as she adjusts herself and then slowly sinks down onto his cock. His hands tighten on her sides, his head tips back on her pillow and she loses herself in that slow, indescribably wonderful sensation of being filled.</p><p class="p1">She opens her eyes again - when did she close them? - to find him staring at her, his hands on her hips as she rises up and down in a steady, slow rhythm. There are no regrets, not here and not now. His eyes are attached to her, even though his hands roam, and there’s something about him she can’t put a finger on. She likes how he looks, all glassy-eyed and mouth half-parted, how he’s got his name on his chest but it’s her name on his lips. She could do just about anything to him and he’d let her, all boneless and insensate with lust like he is right now.</p><p class="p1">She stops, high up with just the head of his cock still inside her, and his hands try to drag her down. She wants to let them, but it’s a test of her own self-control right now. He tries to thrust up into her, and she rises up still more, keeping him oh so barely inside her. Then, to her surprise, he pounds a fist in to the mattress.</p><p class="p1">“You look so perfect like that.”</p><p class="p1">“Do I?” She reaches up, undoes her hair, and lets it cascade down her back and around her shoulders, and slowly drops her hands back to her sides. He looks even more glassy-eyed, to the point that she briefly considers if he needs medical assistance. Then she lowers herself slowly back down, and his groan proves he hasn’t quite died. Yet.</p><p class="p1">Quick, quick, slow, she teases him and drives him towards orgasm just as badly as he’d teased her. His hands occasionally reach up to grab her breasts, roll her nipples between his fingers, but they always settle back down to hold her closer to him. She doesn’t mind so much, and then she lets him lead just when it seems like he’s going to lose it. His fingers dig into the muscle, almost bruising, and she can feel his cock jerk inside her with the force of orgasm. That’s new.</p><p class="p1">“Sonya,” he croaks, and she drops her head down, kissing him hungrily. She’s close, but not quite there yet, and unabashedly rocks her hips and grinds her clit against him.</p><p class="p1">“That’s it, babe. Come for me, babe.” His cock has to be oversensitive now but he’s just full of words and encouragement, voice rough and low, as she keeps going. “Tell me what I can do to get you off.” His hands knead her thighs, and his chest is heaving with exertion, and he maintains that litany of praise and promises as she feels the roar of pleasure through her body. Muscles seize, toes curl, and for a few moments she couldn’t move even if she wanted to. There is nothing short of Jax - no, not even Jax and that thought makes her freeze for an entirely different reason - that could make her shift from this position right now.</p><p class="p1">She drops her head on Johnny’s shoulder, and he settles his arms around her, holding her against him. This feels good, and it feels right, and she’s going to enjoy all the post-coital endorphins because this could be the last time.</p><p class="p1">“If you’re trying to kill me, I’d totally prefer this than going up against a sorcerer,” he murmurs in her ear. “You’re the best cardio.” She doesn’t have an answer, just the appeal of listening to their hearts pound in synch, his hands making circles on her back.</p><p class="p1">Eventually she slides off him, rising and disappearing towards the bathroom, and returning a few minutes later with a towel and a pair of water glasses. “Reciprocating the courtesy,” she informs him, passing him first a glass and then the towel, before she climbs back into the bed. She debated pajamas, but really, there’s no point - not tonight. She stretches out on her stomach, pillowing her head on one hand.</p><p class="p1">“If this is how you usually run mission prep…”</p><p class="p1">“Pain in my ass,” she grumbles, and he runs a hand over that ass with a satisfied sound, smacking it lightly. She props herself up on her elbows, looking at him on his back.</p><p class="p1">“You love it.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not bad,” she concedes, “but loving it is pushing it.” He looks wounded, at that, genuinely hurt, and she sighs. “There’s very little I love in this world.” And maybe, given how twisted up her stomach is right now, she’s going to have to reconsider that if she makes it through the next forty-eight hours.</p><p class="p1">“Loving things is good,” he says, and it looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t. He presses his lips together, and leans down to kiss her shoulder. “You should try it sometime.”</p><p class="p1">“Everything I loved got taken away from me.” It’s out in a burst of honesty, and she’s not sure where it came from, and she rolls away with her back to him, curling up in a fetal position. “Easier not to, now. The job doesn’t care if I like it or love it or don’t, as long as it gets done to the best of my ability.” He doesn’t say anything, which surprises her more than anything else that’s happened does, and just tucks himself up behind her like he’s filling in the empty spaces around her, and slides one arm under her pillow and her head, the other around her chest.</p><p class="p1">“Well,” he says finally, so close she can feel his chest move as he speaks, “it’s a good thing I don’t have that hangup. But it’s easier to do something when you love it.”</p><p class="p1">“You can keep all the emotion,” she says, even as one of her hands tangles with the one of his over her stomach. “Just don’t let it run you tomorrow. Think with your brain, not your dick, okay?”</p><p class="p1">“I make no promises, babe, but I’ll try.”</p><p class="p1">“I suppose that’s all I can ask for.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He blinks awake, not sure when he fell asleep. She’d slept far quicker than he did, and his mind had run busy circles wondering how the hell he could tell her that he loved her before all of this went down, without it fucking up their dynamic entirely. He’d concluded there was no way, not if they wanted this to go off without a hitch. He’d tell her when they were done.</p><p class="p1">The smell of coffee hangs heavy in the air, but the warmth of someone beside him was something he definitely didn’t expecte. Confusion at the novelty reigns for a few moments. He looks over, sees legs - long, muscled, beautiful legs without a stitch to hide them. He follows them to the heartbreakingly disappointing sight of plain white cotton underwear, a white tank top and the lines of a bra beneath it. Awake, and half-dressed, but - well. Half is better than fully, as far as he’s concerned. One leg is half-bent upwards, a tablet propped up against her thigh.</p><p class="p1">He rolls towards her and drops a line of kisses along the bare skin of her upper leg.</p><p class="p1">“New toy?”</p><p class="p1">“SITREP update,” she says, one hand reaching for her coffee and taking a sip. When she sets it back down and she switches which leg is drawn up. She props the tablet against her other leg, and takes the free hand - now closest to him - and cards a hand through his hair, eyes still on her device.</p><p class="p1">“Everything still good?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. Fresh intel says Quan Chi’s taken some of the others to another site in the Netherrealm, but then he disappeared and a bunch of the revenants stayed. Liu Kang, Kung Lao, Kitana, Jade, Sindel, and Kabal are in the wind. So half of them are in the wind, not at Quan Chi’s tower, but at this other site.”</p><p class="p1">He reaches for the tablet, and she huffs, moving it out of his reach.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t have clearance.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t want clearance,” he says tiredly, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling the soft skin of her stomach. “Want you.”</p><p class="p1">“We’ve got the last mission briefing in a few hours and then we’re out of here. You’re not getting laid again. I should be on post, not here in bed.”</p><p class="p1">“C’mon. Get the heart rate up, the blood pumping?” He gives her his biggest puppy-dog look, all wide eyes and trembling lower lip on demand.</p><p class="p1">She looks down at him and snorts, unmoved. “We make it out of this thing alive, IOU.”</p><p class="p1">“Promise?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah.” And he can tell it’s out before she thinks about it, and he kisses her stomach through the shirt, feels her tense and then relax.</p><p class="p1">“Steak, grill, maybe The Godfather,” he proposes, rolling over to lay on his back again beside her. He folds his arms and pillows his hands behind his head, and looks up at her. “Or maybe Ben Hur. Or - no, not Silence of the Lambs. Not after steak.”</p><p class="p1">“Plan later, Johnny. We’ve got shit to do. I’ve got some calls to make, and some last - things to get in order.” She’s quick, he gives her credit for that; so quick he almost didn’t hear the way her voice caught on the last half of that sentence. Getting things in order sounds an awful lot like getting affairs in order, which is always scriptwriter for preparing wills, for a suicide mission.</p><p class="p1">“Let me grab a shower, and then I can help you.”</p><p class="p1">“Not much you can help with. You’re a distraction more than anything else.” She swats him on the chest, over the tattoo. He snorts, and sits up. She looks back at her tablet, frowning at it, fingers playing across the screen. She chews on the inside of her cheek, and then glances sidelong at him. “Johnny?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, babe?”</p><p class="p1">“Thanks. For coming up. For running this with me.”</p><p class="p1">“No thanks needed, Sonya. They’re - I want them back, too.” He grins at her, tries for the disarming smile that usually works with everyone else, and gets a kind of wobbly half-smile in return. He slides out of the bed, grins more at the way she looks him over and then very deliberately turns her attention back to the tablet as he walks towards the door. “I mean, I gotta tell Jax I’m sleeping with you now, after all.”</p><p class="p1">“You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses, eyes wide, and he grins, dodging the pillow she throws at him as he heads for the bathroom.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, he punched me in the face, I gotta let him know it didn’t work as a deterrent.”</p><p class="p1">“CAGE!”</p><p class="p1">He whistles the few steps down the hall to her bathroom, pretty sure his face is going to hurt from how much he’s smiling.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Nope, no evil sorcerers in here,” Johnny says, walking down the ramp behind Sonya. They’ve been preceded by her handpicked squad, and it’s all been smooth as butter. He should maybe feel concerned about this, but he doesn’t - Quan Chi’s fortress has been empty, almost echoing.</p><p class="p1">She chuckles, but doesn’t turn back, eyes scanning the room. “Would you get serious?”</p><p class="p1">“Quan Chi needs to clean up his man-cave.” He stops beside her, gun easy in his hand; she’s not letting down her guard at all, hers held in a two-handed grip, ready for everything, anything.</p><p class="p1">She scoffs. “’S cleaner than yours,” she says with a faint smile.</p><p class="p1">He stopped on the ramp, looking at her. “You’re comparing me to Quan Chi?”</p><p class="p1">“Only in terms of cleanliness.”</p><p class="p1">He shook his head and watches her walk off, but keeps close behind. He’s not used to this kind of casual banter with her on a mission, and the dichotomy of thinking about how her ass looks in those pants, alongside the tall arching supports filled with skulls, is unsettling. They walk past candleholders made of spinal cords, and her team peels off to go check the other half of the room. There’s a hell of a library - he wonders what kind of crazy things are in it. Probably an actual copy of the Necronomicon, and it really would eat him if he touched it. Maybe some of that stuff from the Deep Ones and Lovecraft; he wouldn’t be surprised. In the middle of the room is a large pool, a hot tub full of wet and viscous fluid.</p><p class="p1">“What’s this?” He kneels down, and her hands haven’t left the gun since they walked through the portal into the Netherrealm.</p><p class="p1">“I wouldn’t do that.” Sonya’s voice is quick behind his shoulder. It’s not quite an order, but it’s definitely more than a strong suggestion. He can’t resist, and reaches his fingers down to the pool of \ red.</p><p class="p1">“Aww, c’mon.” He grins, starts to tease her. “Where’s your sense of-“ his fingers touch the viscous red fluid, and there’s a flare of light. The deepest feeling of regret he’s ever had courses through his body as the red liquid glows and begins to spiral of at the contact. “Adventure.” He straightens quickly, nervously, and looks at her; she’s got the I-told-you-so look, even if she doesn’t actually say it, and he can’t blame her.</p><p class="p1">“You wish for adventure?” Quan Chi’s voice, as he and Scorpion and Jax and Sub-Zero emerge from a portal across the room. Suddenly his gun is up and in his hand, and he’s grateful for all the practice she’s insisted he has. “You shall have it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Sonya gives the order to fire and her soldiers do, and then the fight is on. Sub-Zero freezes her men and she can only spare a moment of sadness before she fans the anger in her heart. His eyes are on Sonya and she hates them, hates it as he says he and Johnny will serve him in death. He and Scorpion come for her, while Jax and Sub-Zero lunge for Johnny. Quan Chi goes down too easily but Scorpion is there right after, and she and Johnny dispatch the Revenants quickly enough to focus their shared attentions on this sorcerer who has wrought so much evil.</p><p class="p1">They are distracted by him - just enough for Jax to rise up, and stab Johnny in the chest with a blade.</p><p class="p1">“Johnny!”</p><p class="p1">Her stomach twists at the anguished sound in her own voice, and she starts to see red, moving towards her - whatever he ism, she doesn’t know yet, and Quan Chi decks her in the cheek. They swing at each other, and she’s no longer full of any form of logic but just pure anger and refusal to allow this to happen; she knocks the massive pale sorcerer down, and runs to fling Jax to the ground.</p><p class="p1">She hates fighting Jax. Every time, every time it hurts her, nearly kills her inside. Each time she has to try to knock him down, take him out, but he’s already dead and so he comes back again and again and again. It means facing a nightmare, one of her own making, every time. Losing a little bit of herself every time.</p><p class="p1">And now Jax has laid Johnny out, stabbed him. Has tried to bring him to Quan Chi’s side.</p><p class="p1">“This will not happen.” She’s Sonya Blade, she gets what she wants - she gets her way. And her best friend is not going to kill her - whatever he is. Her friend. Her partner.</p><p class="p1">The fight hurts. There is the obligatory physicality of it, the way her best friend lays into her with the intent to strike her down and kill her. Harder is it the fact that it’s Jax, and she’s being forced to choose. Choose between her best friend and the hope of keeping him around or bringing him back, and the smart-ass actor who’s been making her unreasonably happy, for fuck’s sake. She pushes everything to the side and focuses on blocking blows, returning them, using every tool in her formidable arsenal to put Jax down. She has to remind herself every time that it’s not Jax, it’s not really Jax. It’s not really Jax.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Johnny is too busy writhing in pain to watch Sonya take Jax apart, but then she’s back and can’t even keep her voice even as she talks to him. She doesn’t even call him out when he jokes. He really must have her worried. That can’t be good. Nothing shakes her. Her words have that tone of voice thatHe can feel the jolt of energy as Raiden tries to take apart whatever is killing him, whatever is forming in the blood pool. He’s surprised, since he can’t feel his feet or his hands, limbs gone lethargic and numb. Sonya’s right there, when he can open his eyes, her hand pushing down on his chest, trying to seal the wound.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“No. He’s mine.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">Johnny’s not sure he heard her right - he’s got to be hearing things with the blood loss, and Raiden and Quan Chi’s magics. Hearing her give orders to a god, no question that she’ll be obeyed - blood loss, and fantasy.</p><p class="p1">But damn does it feel good to hear the woman he loves bossing around a god, even if he has to die to hear it.</p><p class="p1">He’s not sure what happens next, except that suddenly Sonya is there, spattered with blood and her hand under his neck, her other on him, trying to figure out what she should do.</p><p class="p1">“Is he gonna make it?” He can hear her voice and it still sounds worried.</p><p class="p1">“Haven’t I told you?” It hurts to talk, but he does. “He’s a god.”</p><p class="p1">“You scared the shit out of me.” Her voice trembles, but slowly regains her confidence. His eyes are on her, definitely the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and not just because he’s not dead.</p><p class="p1">“And they said I couldn’t do horror films.”</p><p class="p1">“Ass,” he’s sure she mutters, but he could also be hallucinating that with the blood loss.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“We’ve got to get you and the others back to Earthrealm.” She looks at his face, puts a hand on his shoulder. He glances down at it, back up to her face, and they share a smile.</p><p class="p1">“You sure?”</p><p class="p1">“Like you’ll be of much use to me with this much blood gone. You’re getting back to base and saline infusions. Maybe some blood transfusions, we’ll see how the supply is.” She shifts him upright a little more, and he sucks in a breath against the pain. “Worse comes to worst, I can donate as long as you’re compatible.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, we’re compatible.” He grins, and she groans, but that soft smile is on her face. It’s like she can’t quite make herself be angry with him.</p><p class="p1">“I will handle transporting Sub-Zero, Scorpion, and Jackson Briggs,” comes Raiden’s voice from above them. They look up at the thunder god. Johnny nods and begins struggling to his feet. Sonya is there and quickly slides her arm around him for support, helping him move slowly. He will be fine, if she has to will it to be true.</p><p class="p1">“I heard that,” Johnny murmurs to her.</p><p class="p1">“Why, did you think you’d gone deaf? Raiden said-“</p><p class="p1">“Not what Raiden said. What you said.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, well. We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Her fingers poke him lightly in the shoulder. “Told you not to touch stuff you don’t recognize.”</p><p class="p1">“Worst hot tub experience ever.”</p><p class="p1">She makes a little sound that might be a laugh, and that’s good enough for him. It hurts to smile, and to breathe, but he does anyway.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Sonya forces him to be checked over by the medics, handing him over to them and them vanishing, and he knows where. There’s a blip of blonde hair down the hall, and a very angry voice that is absolutely hers. It cuts off abruptly in the middle of a strident yell, and he unzips his vest and lets the medics cut off the shirt beneath it to look at the injuries that should be there but aren’t.</p><p class="p1">The put him in a bed and insert an IV, the doctor making several tart comments about if god can heal, surely they can replenish blood at the same time instead of requiring inroads into the SF’s blood supply. Johnny shrugs and says something, he doesn’t even remember what he’s so out of it - he’s alive, and if all he has to do is have some blood and saline, he’ll be fine.</p><p class="p1">He is, however, bored out of his mind. The room he’s in has no TV, no anything, so he’s left with his own thoughts. They aren’t the kind of place he wants to dwell right now; he just looks down and sees Jax’s blade coming through his chest, over and over and over again.</p><p class="p1">He falls asleep at some point, and wakes up to find Sonya in a chair next to his bed, looking at a tablet and chewing the inside of her cheek. Her eyes are a little red, the skin around them puffy, and he wonders how long he’s been out. She looks like she’s cleaned up, no longer bloody and wearing a pair of camouflage pants and a black tee shirt that somehow looks a size or two too big. She swipes away a message, opens another, and rubs the bridge of her nose between two fingers.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, gorgeous,” he croaks from a dry throat. She looks away from her tablet and over to him, that soft smile crossing her face.</p><p class="p1">“Not so much. Hey yourself, pile of paperwork.”</p><p class="p1">“How long have I been out?”</p><p class="p1">“Couple of hours. Enough time for me to start in on everything.”</p><p class="p1">“Jax…” Johnny trails off, looking up at her. She bites her lip and looks away. “Sonya, is he-“</p><p class="p1">“Comatose, like Sub-Zero and Scorpion.” She looks down at her hands. “We’re making arrangements for care. I think Raiden’s going to take the ninjas to the Sky Temple, and then on from there to people he knows. He’s leaving Jax with us.”</p><p class="p1">“Good,” he says fervently. “You’re gonna get him back, Sonya.”</p><p class="p1">“But at what cost?” She tilts her head back, shakes it a little. He reaches out, spreading his hand on the hospital blanket, and she laces her fingers with his unthinkingly. “You nearly died today, too.”</p><p class="p1">“But I didn’t. Too good-looking to die, remember?” He squeezes her hand and she huffs in annoyance. “I would have looked terrible with all that grey. I mean, the glowy magic is cool, but how would it have looked with the green stuff?” Her eyes narrow in frustration. “You kicked Scorpion’s ass, Sub-Zero’s ass, Jax’s ass, and Quan Chi’s, all in a row. And you’re getting them back. Quan Chi may be gone, but we’ll get him. For now - we’ve got three of ‘em back. It’s a start.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.</p><p class="p1">She looks paler than usual, a little out of it, and he attributes it to the entire ordeal.</p><p class="p1">“I’ve got to go do some things - I can bring the paperwork in here,” she starts, but Johnny shakes his head.</p><p class="p1">“Leave me some dignity, and I know you have phone calls to make that you don’t want to have me eavesdropping on.”</p><p class="p1">“You have no dignity. Who are you trying to fool?” She raises an eyebrow, and he shrugs, flashing her a grin. “Well, it sounds like they’ll give you a discharge later tonight. You need to get your gear from my place, right?”</p><p class="p1">“ You go sit with Jax, babe. You’ve been waiting long enough.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, but you need keys to my place to get your gear, and I’m not giving those to you. Don’t trust you yet. God knows what I’d come back to.”</p><p class="p1">“So go check on Jax and then come back here, or I’ll come find you once I’m in the free and clear.”</p><p class="p1">She stands up and puts a hand on his shoulder, and then gives a quick glance around before pressing a kiss to his lips.</p><p class="p1">“You’re a good guy, Johnny. Even when you make me lose ten years with the stunts you pull. You’re reckless and have no sense of restraint, of self-control…”</p><p class="p1">He grins up at her, winks. “I can think of a few ways you can show your appreciation.” She rolls her eyes, and he reaches up to touch her cheek. “Go. I know you want to go see him. I won’t blow out of here without finding you, I promise.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She settles down into the chair beside Jax’s comatose figure, tablet in hand and a stack of papers in the other. She’s got a lot of work ahead of her, and maybe she can lose herself in this for a while rather than dwelling on the new reality of things. Raiden’s already asked her for a meeting, and there are going to be funerals to attend. Her calendar’s already filling up in blocks and increments, and it’s at least two weeks out before there’s something longer than 90 minutes not already full.</p><p class="p1">Her mind is sliding back into the routine of administrative things, writing up her after-action report, and it’s easy to lose herself for several hours. She wishes she had her laptop, but that would have meant leaving the hospital, and with the two most important people in her world here, she wouldn’t do that.</p><p class="p1">When the fuck did Cage become one of the ranking people in her world?</p><p class="p1">She presses her eyes shut, rubs the bridge of her nose again, and then pinches it hard. He’s going to be the death of her. She’s spent too long crying today, thankful the showers hid most of it. She’s learned the fine art of crying quietly; heart wrenching sobs are too feminine, too weak, not something she can afford if she’s going to keep her reputation. Chin up, soldier.Big girls don’t cry.</p><p class="p1">Jax looks like shit, but he looks like alive shit, which is better than what he was before with the glowing cracks in his skin and no pulse. They’ve left his arms untouched right now, so the dark metal glitters in the cold light of all the medical equipment, spiky and cruel. She’s asked someone to go find one of the old pairs of his arms - there were more than one pair, after the surgery - and get them fixed up and ready for the minute he woke up and they could strip him of Quan Chi’s brutal additions.</p><p class="p1">Sonya begins to hum as she works, working her way back through the pop earworms in the office to the songs they used to sing in the bars, to the marching songs in boot camp and in PT. He’s breathing, slow and steady, and the complacent beeping of the machinery is almost enough to lull her to sleep.</p><p class="p1">She pinches herself to keep from it - she’ll sleep later, when she’s home, once Johnny’s discharged and someone’s promised her there won’t be a change in Jax’s condition, that stable really means stable.</p><p class="p1">“Sonya?” The voice is rusty, rough, but there’s an element to it that’s new and real and alive. She looks at him, and his eyes - thank fuck, those dark brown eyes are <em>open </em>and they’re not dead, not glowing. His mouth works but nothing comes out, and she pushes the panic down away in her chest.</p><p class="p1">“Jax!” She reaches forward, pulls her hands back at the last minute.</p><p class="p1">“It’s - it’s over?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah. You’re stuck with me again.” She grins, giddy with relief, and then grabs at one of his hands, the metal barely warm between her fingers. She picks it up and puts it against her cheek, reassuring herself, reassuring him. “You’re on the SF base, in medical.”</p><p class="p1">“And - the rest?”</p><p class="p1">“Raiden has Scorpion and Sub-Zero. The rest… well, we’ll get them back too.”</p><p class="p1">“Cage?”</p><p class="p1">“He’s fine. Raiden fixed him up, and then the medical team here.” She squeezes his fingers, feels him squeeze back, and can’t keep the smile from splitting her face.</p><p class="p1">“Sonya - there’s so much-“</p><p class="p1">“We’ll talk about it later. You’re back, you’re your own person again. Jax -“ she stops herself, squeezes her eyes shut and looks up. “I missed you, damn it.”</p><p class="p1">“Missed you too, LT. Except it’s not LT anymore, huh?” He drops his hand. “You outrank me now. How’s about that.”</p><p class="p1">“We’ll get it all straightened out,” she says, swallowing heavily. “Fuck, I missed you. There’s so much to catch you up on.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” Jax says, and she can tell the simple word is hard. “Sonya, I’m sorry. For all that shit I did - I don’t know how I can live with myself.”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, none of that, not now. Not allowed,” she says with a heavy tongue. “You weren’t yourself, literally. And we’ve got time to talk about all of that. So much to talk about.” She stands up, setting the tablet on the chair, and sits on the edge of the hospital bed. If one of the nurses comes and gives her a hard time, Sonya is ready to resign her commission. She takes both of Jax’s hands in hers, and squeezes them between her hands as hard as she can. “You’re back, you’re yourself, your own man.”</p><p class="p1">“Uncle Sam’s still got-“</p><p class="p1">“Uncle Sam,” Lieutenant Colonel Sonya Blade says firmly, “can fuck off.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Discharged, Johnny is walking down the hall when he hears Sonya’s voice and the declaration that the military can go stuff itself. He’s never, ever, heard her say anything in opposition to the service and the nation, and wonders what set her off. He wants to stop and knock on the door, or slide in and say hello, but even he knows you don’t cut into a scene like this.</p><p class="p1">“Well, we’ll talk about that later.” That’s Jax’s voice, sounding a whole lot more like it did before New York. Warmer, less tinged with soullessness and unadulterated evil. “So you and Cage? You’re a thing now?”</p><p class="p1">He stops, backs up, just out of sight of the door. You don’t walk into the room - but eavesdropping is a staple. He makes sure he’s out of sight, and winks at one of the nurses as she passes by; she winks back.</p><p class="p1">“Out of all the things you could ask about, that’s one of the first?” Her voice is rough, and it sounds almost hysterical with repressed laughter.</p><p class="p1">“Every time I saw you, I saw him.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t know yet.” Inside the room, Sonya’s voice drops, goes contemplative. “He’s… an acquired taste. And I think I like it.”</p><p class="p1">“You’ve gone downhill since I haven’t been around to keep you in order. Dating an <em>actor</em>. Please.” Jax laughs, a rough sound long unused, and then there’s Sonya’s laugh, a moment later, a little panicked. “Well… I need to talk to your boy, then. Apologize for-“</p><p class="p1">“I’m not dating anyone, and you can talk to him later. There’s a lot to catch up on, Jax. Once you’re discharged, when you’re ready to face the world again. But we’ve got the time, now.” Her voice is oddly soft and gentle, and Johnny remembers the tone from when she was reassuring herself he was still alive, only hours ago.</p><p class="p1">“He’s an idiot, Sonya. You can do better.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, but… I think he’s my idiot.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Johnny can’t keep the grin off his face. He waits until he’s down the hall before sending her a text - <em>Discharged, will wait for you downstairs so I can get my stuff from your place.</em></p><p class="p1">Her response is quick.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Jax says come up.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He walks slowly and deliberately back to the room, and knocks on the door.</p><p class="p1">“Cage.” Jax is sitting up.</p><p class="p1">“Jax.” Johnny nods politely, looking at Sonya. She’s still perched on the side of his bed, Jax’s big hands between her small ones, and Johnny can’t help but feel a little jealous.</p><p class="p1">“We have to have some words.”</p><p class="p1">“We can have those later once you’re up and ready to go again, man. Welcome back.”</p><p class="p1">“No, I need to do this now. Before things - well.” Johnny is pinned by Jax’s dark eyes, and they’re the Hollywood definition of haunted. “I want to do it now, in case shit hits the fan. I’m sorry for trying to kill you, all those times. Wasn’t in my right mind.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, it didn’t take, so it’s not a problem.”</p><p class="p1">“You also kept her up and going.” Jax tilts his head towards Sonya. “Seems to me you two have gotten pretty-“</p><p class="p1">“Jax,” she says, and Johnny thinks there might be a faint flush of red in her cheeks. “Later.”</p><p class="p1">“Nah. See, this asshole and I got into a fight once, ‘bout you. He’s kept you around and alive when I couldn’t, so I owe him some thanks for keeping your ass out of trouble.”</p><p class="p1">“And no finer ass could I try to keep out of trouble.” Johnny pauses, frowns. “Wait, that’s not what I meant.” Jax’s eyebrows rise as Johnny continues. “I meant I couldn’t be happier to have my hands full with that ass. I mean-“</p><p class="p1">“Shut up, Johnny,” Sonya says, moving one hand to smack him on the shoulder, and he grins, and maybe that’s a tiny smile at the corner of Jax’s mouth, just maybe.</p><p class="p1">The nurse comes in, as if she’d been waiting for a cue.</p><p class="p1">“Go home, Sonya,” Jax says gently, taking his hands away. “It’s gonna be a long night, I bet, and you’re not going to be able to do anything. Go home and sleep.” She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, and Jax looks to Johnny and inclines his head ever so slightly. “Cage, if you put a single hand on that ass-“</p><p class="p1">“With all due respect, Jax, she’d put me into the ground before you could even reach for me. You’re terrifying, but she’s worse.”</p><p class="p1">“So nothing’s changed, after all. Good.” And Jax grins as Johnny lets Sonya lead out of the room, the door pulled shut behind them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“So, we gonna talk about what you said?” Johnny is proud of the fact that he’s waited until her door is closed and her boots are off - proof she intends to stay home for a while at least.</p><p class="p1">“What part, the driving you home?”</p><p class="p1">“No. When old Jax had - you know.” He points at his chest, where there should be a scar but isn’t. “Quan Chi said that I was his. And you staked a claim.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re my partner,” she says blithely, tugging off her socks, going to the kitchen and pulling a pair of beers out of the refrigerator, and a bottle cap opener out of its drawer. “Not gonna lose Jax, and then you, to that sick sonnuvabitch.” She rolls her head around on her neck, uncapping one beer and proffering it to him. He steps forward and takes it, fingers brushing against hers.</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, well, kinda had a little more weight to it. And what happened, after.”</p><p class="p1">“Do we have to do this now?” Her voice holds a faint hint of pleading, and she uncaps the other beer. “You almost - fuck, Johnny, you almost <em>died</em>, you can’t pull that kind of shit on me.” She pushes him lightly in one shoulder with one hand. “No groping giant blood pools in sorcerer’s lairs any more, okay?”</p><p class="p1">“Definitely no sense of adventure,” he huffs. “Look, Sonya, you held off on going after Quan Chi.”</p><p class="p1">“I couldn’t let you and Jax- I had to make sure you two-“ She stops, squeezing her eyes shut, and takes a long swallow of the beer. She’s not going to fucking cry, not even at the thought of losing her third partner. And she likes this one, damn it, more than she should. Why is she so damn emotional? “Put a lot of time and effort into making you a functional member of society, Johnny. Not about to let that go to waste.”</p><p class="p1">“Right. Come here, hot stuff.” He slings an arm around her shoulders, squeezing them tightly. “You kicked ass. You took down the revenants like they were paparazzi, you got Jax back, you curb stomped Quan Chi - or so Raiden says - and you did it all without breaking a sweat. Or a nail. You’re at the top of your game, Sonya.” He takes a long drink from his beer, breathing in the smell of her.</p><p class="p1">“You did… you did a pretty good job yourself today, Johnny.” She turns slightly and kisses him on the corner of the mouth, and <em>she started it! She started it! She started it!</em> begins chorusing in his head. “Even if you did almost get yourself killed.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, you got me out of it, Very Special Forces, so.”</p><p class="p1">“Fuck you,” she swears, and he grins, taking another drink from his bottle and then setting it aside. He wants two hands on her, two hands to make sure she’s all there, two hands to glory in being alive.</p><p class="p1">“I mean, I’m happy to if you want.” He looks down at her, and it’s barely turning his face down. “You’ve got a bed, and I have to head back to LA tomorrow morning but nothing says I can’t spend the night here.”</p><p class="p1">“Except me.”</p><p class="p1">“Except you,” he agrees. “Are you saying I can’t?”</p><p class="p1">Her hands are free; he’s not sure where her beer went but her hands are free, and he knows this because she’s using both of them to undo his belt buckle.</p><p class="p1">“Sonya, are you-“</p><p class="p1">“Are you going to complain?”</p><p class="p1">“No,” he says in a slightly strangled voice as one hand, wet with condensation from the beer, drops inside his pants. “Wondering what part of post-mission stuff this usually is.”</p><p class="p1">“The part where I’m really grateful we’re both not dead, and would like to celebrate that by having a mind-numbing orgasm that doesn’t involve batteries.”</p><p class="p1">Oh.</p><p class="p1">He decides he isn’t going to complain as she literally leads him by his dick to her bedroom. Maybe one day she’d be up for giving him a show, but if she’s decided he’s the vibrator substitute of choice, he’s absolutely not going to complain.</p><p class="p1">Foreplay is not her strong point. He’s going to have to work on that, too. Maybe spend some sunny afternoon tangled in the sheets making out like a pair of teenagers, all fingers and tongues and figuring out what her special quirks are. She’ll have to take a day off first. That may take the end of the world to achieve, but he’s willing to try and convince her not to wait that long.</p><p class="p1">There is nothing gentle or delicate about it tonight. She’s chasing something, and he’s pretty sure it’s not just an orgasm. She’s rough for the first time, taking rather than negotiating or waiting for him to lead. It’s mind-blowing and terrifying and still arousing as hell as she sucks the skin of his neck into her mouth and marks him. She bites - not enough to draw blood, but not a love nibble, into the meat of his shoulder, and her nails rake down his chest, his back, his sides. He’s never been into masochism, and he’s pretty sure she’s not getting off on the pain, but there’s something visceral and feral about the whole thing.</p><p class="p1">She won’t let him stop, and he doesn’t want to stop once he’s buried to the hilt inside her, surrounded by heat and warmth and the terrifying realization that this is absolutely the only woman he ever wants to fuck again. It’s graceless and there’s no joking, no teasing, no dialogue or pretty words in the depths of the night, just grunts and moans and teeth and a shatteringly good orgasm for him. He assumes hers is just as earthshaking from the way she bites into his shoulder, not drawing blood but definitely staking a claim.</p><p class="p1">“Maybe you are going to kill me,” he says in the minutes after, while their bodies are both limp and boneless and endorphins still run rampant. “But with sex like that, I’ll take it.”</p><p class="p1">“Not so bad yourself,” she grunts, and only then does she press a kiss to his mouth before rolling over and going to sleep almost immediately, yawning and exhausted. He follows not long after.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Some time later, Johnny rolls over, searching sleepily for Sonya. His fingers catch cold sheets, blankets, and an empty pillow. He’s alone, but in her bed at least, so maybe that’s a step up. His grasp closes on a note on her pillow.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Emergency w/ Jax, crashed but they got him back. Didn’t want to wake you up - gone to hospital. Not sure when I’ll be back. Lock up when you leave, spare key on the counter. Drop it with security when you go.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>-Blade</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>PS - don’t use all my whipped cream or you will NEVER get invited back</em>
</p><p class="p1">He makes coffee using the half pot she left him, topping it with a Leaning Tower of Pisa of whipped cream from the spare canister tucked in her fridge. He snaps a picture of it and texts it to her, but no response comes. He flips her note over, writes a response, and leaves it on the table.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Left you some. Let me know how Jax is - give me a call when you get back. Or tell him to call me. Gotta know what to get for the welcome back bbq. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>-JC</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Half his drive back to LA is phone calls to assure everyone he will be on set that afternoon, he’ll get caught up with the new script pages, everything is fine and the fate of the world is no longer in his hands. He makes one promise to himself, though: he’s not going to push Sonya, he’s not going to wheedle or beg or shove himself into her life. She gets to make the first phone call, the first text, after this. He’s texted her the whipped cream, left her the message, the ball is in her court. It took two weeks last time, and he can be patient. It may be the most difficult thing he’s ever done in his life, but he can be patient.</p><p class="p1">This is going to suck.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Some dialogue is ripped directly from MKX for obvious reasons. </p><p>To those of you who have been commenting, thank you! Sonya and Johnny have a ridiculous dynamic that I intend to explore as long as I can, both in smut and not. This was a tricky one to end (and chapter in particular) because we *know* what comes next, and linking the events and timelines is rough but I'm trying.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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